Even Blacks
by Tempestt Londyn
Summary: They're merciless, cold, and calculated. But Blacks, too, are human, strangled by whirlwinds of imperfection. Five drabble-ish entries. Enter the tormented lives of Bellatrix, Narcissa, Sirius, Andromeda, and Regulus.
1. Principle Offense

**Disclaimer**: This – the ever-redundant story – applies for this chapter and the subsequent four. I am not JK Rowling. Hence, I am rightfully entitled to absolutely no portion of Harry Potter.

**Author's Note I: **The original intent was for this to be a one-shot, but I'm trying to – at least, momentarily – lay off the ungodly long one-shots. Revising the original one shot was also a contributing factor in my ultimate decision to make this a five-piece. Irrespective, each entry is to contain a song excerpt to highlight its overarching theme. Let's get this underway, then, shall we? Favorite, alert, review, whatever you please :)

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><p>"<em>Sometimes I wonder do you<em>

_Even recognize the woman_

_That's standing in front of you…"_

Estelle, "Thank You"

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><p><strong>~ Principle Offense ~<strong>

_**[: Bellatrix Lestrange (née Black), 1995 :]**_

Hands caressed a far too prominent ribcage, her dull eyes staring back at her as she stood – frozen – before the floor length, oval crystallized mirror. Some tiny, foreign portion of her soul longed to cry out, beg for validation that its host was, indeed, animate.

Her hands clenched, jagged nails shredding the sensitive flesh of her palms. Perhaps crying wouldn't be so shameful, not now, after everything. But she cannot. The last of such emotion had been exhausted, one night ago, when she escaped prison – when He _looked _at her.

Before Azkaban, Bellatrix had not spent a single waking moment doubting herself, thinking herself less than the Dark Lord's favorite. He was a harsh master, yes, but punishment only strengthened her resolve, eradicating all tenderness his protégé might have concealed.

The prison bars had snapped, with a flick of the wand. His handsome scarlet eyes swept over them – Rodolphus, Rabastan and the others – and paused upon arrival of her frame.

Abhorrence tarnished his gracefully sculpted features.

Who was this emaciated creature with the sunken face, the acute angles, the appearance to suggest she was more than a bit touched in the head?

What had become of _His Bella, _the beautiful woman with the distinctive grey eyes, the hourglass figure, the potential for _promise_?

_Promise._

She _swore_ to be his _finest _servant.

She _swore_ to remain unscathed, amidst _all_ affairs.

_I ought to leave you here._ He snarled, thoroughly inspecting the pitiful figure within the damp, dark cell. _This person, she is a shell of my Bella._

She _lied_.

"Narcissa." A man drawled the name, sleepily. His sat upright in the bed, blonde hair uncharacteristically disheveled as he blinked, slowly, gazing about the room. "Your sister seems to have forgotten the whereabouts of our guest room…_and_ her clothes."

"Lucius, got back to sleep." His wife replied, lovingly, yet dismissively. Her slender hands pressed to his chest and his back as she lay him down.

Sapphire eyes filled to the brim with concern as she frowned at her skeletal sibling. "You're hallucinating, darling."

**Fin. **


	2. Scorn of the Sun

**Author's Note II:** Hello, from Romania! This second installment is probably a bit longer than the first. In fact, expect the others to become lengthier. I so appreciate the reviews, favorites and story alerts. Here's hoping this episode is just as thrilling.

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><p>"<em>My outsides are cool,<em>

_My insides are blue…_

_But if you can't look inside you_

_Find out who am I to_

_Be in the position to make me_

_Feel so damn unpretty…"_

TLC, "Unpretty"

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><p><strong>~ Scorn of the Sun ~<strong>

_**[ : Narcissa Malfoy (née Black), 1977 : ]**_

"So lovely," a satisfied Irma Black remarked as dessert was served.

The resulting silence elapsed far too long to pass as acceptable. Nervous glances, three from each of her offspring, glided across the table. Angering the family matriarch simply wouldn't do. It was extremely rare to find oneself in receipt of her praise and those so fortunate certainly weren't foolish enough to withhold gratitude.

Likewise, it wouldn't do to articulate the obvious,"You've been addressed," to the girl. Prompting a Black to exercise decorum was unheard of.

A cross cough from Cygnus, to remedy this savage negligence; from Lucius, a covert hand grasp; from Bellatrix, an only just discreet pinch.

The blonde gracefully lifted her head and smiled. "Thank you, ma'am."

The woman's eyebrow raised in acknowledgement of the whispered response. Narcissa's eyes wavered slightly, her grandmother's opaque considering her.

Sighs fluttered about the room, relieved the looming debacle was averted.

Narcissa may have tackled her sister to the floor, had she been of lesser breeding. Bellatrix was an expert in setting her teeth on edge. It was one thing to enact mind games on the filth that populated their world but another to practice Legilimency on the one she deemed most frail.

She tilted her head, almost imperceptibly. Bellatrix's concentration broke as casual conversation altered to one of a more political nature. Narcissa's eyes shifted to her brother-in-law. A struggle traced Rodolphus' face as Bellatrix lips parted, poised to speak. Women expressing interest in politics were generally frowned upon. A proper husband would have acted accordingly and reined her back in.

Narcissa scoffed, a hand covering her lips to mask it as a gentle cough. She should have long ceased to expect contrary behavior, where he was concerned. Rodolphus Lestrange was not a proper husband; he was a yes-man—Bellatrix's lapdog. In any case, it was unlikely that he would desert the chocolate pie in discipline of his feral wife.

She smiled demurely, betraying herself, in response to Lucius' tired groan, as her own emotions threaten to erupt.

The nerve of him! _She _certainly hadn't agreed to dinner with her relatives so soon after their honeymoon.

For what reason—and for whom—should she continue to suppress her screams, stifle her sighs, smother her weeping when she felt so _alone _amongst kin?

Nearly twenty-two years had passed and Narcissa remained unsure of herself, insecure in her own skin. She had no identity, not really. Who would, honestly, in a family besieged with dark, in eyes and hair?

_Enough with this foolishness, Narcissa_. Druella spat, when her youngest ran to her in refuge of her sisters' teasing. _They envy you, for your beauty eclipses theirs. Have I not told you this?_

Easy enough to say, coming from a woman whose own siblings are also fair. Still, Druella couldn't possibly make sense of it, for she bore no witness to the ridicule outside of their home, the stares, whispers and exchanged glances as eyes scanned over Narcissa, yet another wonder of the world.

A _blonde, blue-eyed _Black! She was perplexing, an anomaly, oxymoronic.

And even now, as Narcissa leisurely sipped from her wine glass, silhouettes of standard Blackness swam in the pools of her eyes, a testament to her own artificiality.

Lucius rolled his eyes, as if sensing her discomfort. He thought her concerns petty, incredulous at a person so stunning could cry at a sickle's drop—on account of that lowlife, immigrant Russian asking if Lucius was to wed his cousin; because the other flaxen women at the table were but Greengrasses and Macmillians.

Narcissa choked, without warning, one hand tightening its grip on the glass as the other fought its way back on her lap.

_Don't bother_, she ached to shout as people rushed to her aid.

On Earth, she was alien. But in death, eccentricity dissipated. For death brought normalcy, all having shared the communal experience.

Her peace would come, eventually.

**Fin.**


	3. Author's Note

Happy New Year, all!

I'd like to take this opportunity (which is long overdue, I might add) to thank everyone for the reviews, favorites, follows & PMs on this body of work.

Clearly, this has a few more chapters to go so I apologize for continued hiatus but in between work, GRE studying and personal commitment, I will keep it on hold as I refuse to cringe through, spiritless, when I know subsequent updates would not be of the quality that I seek to provide.

Keep an eye out for soon-to-be released pieces & please know that "Even Blacks" has not fallen off the face of the Earth.

God Bless,

TL


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